


I'm in Heaven

by fanfix666



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Awkward Boners, Castiel in the Bunker, Dean Winchester Has PTSD, Fluff, Hell, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Nightmares, No Smut, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-08 09:56:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21474127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanfix666/pseuds/fanfix666
Summary: Castiel offers to watch over him, and for once, Dean accepts.Will probably change the title eventually, I’m sure it’s been used and overused.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 63





	I'm in Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warning: Brief but graphic—and I mean graphic—depictions of Dean’s torture at the hands of Alistair in Hell, all in the form of a dream. There is also implied past sexual abuse (a very brief mention), also at the hands of Alistair in Hell. Proceed with caution.
> 
> I'll be honest, I have no idea where in the series this fic is supposed to be set. They're in the bunker, Castiel is a full power, and Dean is having Hell dreams. That's all I've got.

_heaven…_

_i’m in heaven…_

Dean blinked, struggling to focus his eyes, struggling to even keep them open. His lips were parted slightly, eyebrows drawn together in confusion, his vision too blurry to make out little more than colors and silhouettes. Someone approached him, then stopped in front of him. “Here,” a familiar voice said, “hold this.” The shadow before him held something—a rope, maybe?—out, and Dean took it without question. He blinked again, and suddenly his vision was clear and he was aware of the warmth and wet in his hands, the pulsing slick of it. He looked down again to find himself holding his own intestines, dangling out of the gushing hole in his belly. He couldn’t even react. Giddy, unsettling laughter came from the someone in front of him, and he looked up to meet yellow eyes. “Do you need some help with that?” the demon asked. “Here, I’ll help.” He reached out, took a firm grip of Dean’s entrails, and pulled.

_and my heart beats so that i can hardly speak…_

Dean bolted upright, just barely able to silence himself before he let out a blood curdling scream. Warm tears streamed down his face and he rubbed angrily at them, willing it to stop. He moved to look at his alarm clock, just enough to notice his unfortunate hard-on, and all his brain could provide as explanation was a long string of one word, repeated over and over again: _sick, sick, sick, sick, sick_. He didn't notice he was saying it out loud. He silenced himself and blinked away the tears, trying to forget the many times he somehow managed to pop a boner in Hell, as he was being tortured, and Alistair's answering sexual abuse; the dream didn't even involve any of that, so why was he hard?

He got up, determined to ignore his confused erection; it certainly wouldn't be the first time his brain got some wires crossed, and he knew it wouldn't be the last, especially during nightmares involving Hell. He wrapped himself in his robe and headed for the kitchen, intending on finding a midnight snack and getting back to bed, hoping for better dreams. Or easier nightmares. What he didn't expect to find—though he should have—was Cas sitting at the table, sitting ramrod straight with his hands clasped together, alone. In the dark. "Uh, hi, Cas." Cas turned to look at him, expressionless blue eyes piercing his.

"Hello, Dean." Great, more nightmare fuel.

Dean swallowed. "What are you doing up, buddy?" The moment he finished the question, he mentally slapped himself for sounding like an idiot. Cas tilted his head, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. Or concern. Maybe both.

"Angels don't—"

"—need sleep. Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I forget." Dean waved his hand dismissively, as if dismissing the question. In doing so, he allowed his robe to fall open. He hurriedly closed it again, hoping Castiel didn't see the fucked up after effects of his nightmare.

Castiel did, but tried to act like he didn't—sometimes the angel knew more than he let on. He could sense the fear, insecurity, anger, confusion, and misplaced arousal swimming behind the green eyes staring back at him, and he didn't want to add humiliation to the mix. Instead, he offered a gentle smile, hoping to bring Dean comfort, but failing miserably as evidence by the rosy red color appearing on Dean's face, neck, and chest, spreading even to the tips of his ears. Dean averted his eyes, staring angrily at the chair at the far end of the table, away from Cas. "I'm—uh, I guess I'm gonna go back to bed. Sorry to bother you." Dean turned on his heels, but before he could leave, Castiel spoke.

"Dean." Dean tensed and stopped in his tracks, but didn't look back at the angel, instead looking up at the ceiling, as if praying for strength.

A moment’s hesitation, then: "Yeah, Cas?"

"Let me watch over you tonight. I can be of use."

Dean turned a little to look at him, his body not quite facing him, but no longer facing the door. Tired eyes briefly met the angel's, then drifted to the floor, swimming in unshed tears that he stubbornly refused to let fall. "How?"

"I can keep the nightmares from coming back, if you let me. I just need your consent." Dean's shoulders slumped in defeat. He would kill for a restful sleep, free from nightmares, and the angel wants to give him that. Why did he ever fight it?

After a few seconds of silence, he nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Okay, Cas. You have my consent. Now what?"

"Go back to bed. I'll be there shortly." Dean did as he was told, and true to his word, Cas appeared not long after with a glass of ice water in his hand. He offered it to Dean, and Dean accepted, taking a sip before placing it on his nightstand. He stared at Cas expectantly. Cas stared back. A few moments of silence passed, then Dean cleared his throat.

“Now what?”

“You sleep,” Cas replied.

“With you just standing there, staring at me?”

“Yes,” Cas said simply, as if he didn’t see the problem in that. Dean shook his head.

“No, people don’t work like that, Cas. You gotta sit down or somethin’, man.” When the angel went to listen, preparing to sit on the floor beside Dean’s bed, Dean hurriedly spoke, “Hold on, no, not on the floor.”

“There are no chairs in here, Dean.”

“Then go get one!” He sounded angrier than he was. He didn’t mean to sound that angry. Cas was only trying to help. The angel only blinked at him, obviously used to his outbursts by now. He laid back, closed his eyes, and put a hand over his face with a sigh. “Never mind. You don’t have to do this, Cas. I’ll be fine.” He left his eyes closed until he felt the gravity shift on his bed, opening them to see Cas sitting at the edge down by his legs, looking back at him.

“Is this alright?”

Dean hesitated, but nodded with his head against the pillow, soaking up Cas’ radiant warmth and comfort. “Yeah.” The light switched off on its own, and Dean correctly assumed it was Cas’ doing.

Several minutes passed in silence, but Dean still couldn’t sleep. He turned and wiggled and kicked his legs, but he couldn’t get comfortable. After what felt like an eternity, he spoke to the dark. “Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?” came the instant reply.

“You can come up here, if you want. Rest your back against the headboard. You can’t be comfortable down there.”

Cas opened his mouth, about to remind Dean that nothing short of an angel blade could cause him discomfort unless he allowed it, but stopped himself, realizing Dean’s offer was probably more for his own comfort than the angel’s, even if not consciously so. Castiel obeyed, kicking his shoes off out of respect as he propped his legs up on the bed, positioning himself as Dean suggested. A few more moments of silence, then, “Hey, can you, uh, zap me to sleep?”

“Of course, Dean.” Before Dean could even thank him, Cas pressed two fingers to his forehead, willing him unconscious. Dean’s entire body seemed to get heavier, the tension the hunter held onto during the day hours slipping away at the angel’s touch. Cas wordlessly clasped his hands back together in his lap and waited for morning.

By the time Dean started to stir and wake, he was wrapped around the angel, his face pressed to the angel’s hip, an arm tossed over his lap, and a leg tossed over his shins from unknowingly seeking the warmth and comfort in his sleep. Castiel was still in the same position, back to the headboard and hands clasped together when Dean straightened and tensed his limbs, stretching them. He inhaled deeply only to have his brain flooded with the smell of petrichor, Earth, and faint ozone, and he hummed in pleasure, a small smile briefly gracing his features before his eyes shot open and he sat up abruptly with a sharp, uncharacteristic yelp. It only took a second for Dean to make sense of his surroundings, then his eyes settled on Cas.

“Ah, sorry, Cas. Didn’t mean to...” to do what, exactly? Cling to the angel like a monkey? Sniff him and moan? Scream in his face when he woke up? “Uh, do that...” he finished.

Cas acted like it didn’t happen, or if it did, like none of it even fazed him, like he didn't even know it was weird—a wise move. Instead, he asked, “Did you sleep well, Dean?”

Dean nodded, visibly relaxed by Cas’ unbothered attitude. “Yeah, Cas. Thank you.”

"You're welcome."

**Author's Note:**

> Castiel acts more like he should be coming from season five or six, or a little later, just before he fully understands humans. It wasn't entirely intentional, but oh well. That's how I like him. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> Sorry if this sucks, I've read over this so many times I can no longer tell if it's any good or not, so I'm just going to take a chance and post anyway. There are probably some mistakes and poorly worded/placed sentences, but I can't tell. I feel like I've gone the writer's equivalent of "nose-blind" to my own writing. Cas may have overused Dean’s name in the dialogue but I can’t bring myself to remove any right now.
> 
> What do you guys like to see in fics? Any requests? Do you want me to continue this, and if so, where should it go? If inspiration strikes, I'd be more than happy to indulge in your suggestions.


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